notre dame.

chapter eight.

CHAPTER EIGHT.

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"Winky told me that you couldn't sleep last night," Barty spoke, seeing Blythe in one of the large chairs in the middle of the sitting room. The morning sunlight peered through the old curtains, making her dark brown curls look as if they were even lighter than they truly were. Blythe only hummed, paying no mind to her father's presence as she continued scrawling on the parchment she had. Barty watched her suspiciously, secretly wondering if Blythe had found out his secret. It hadn't ended well for the last person who discovered it, they had no recollection of it happening, "Maybe being back in the manor isn't the greatest option for you."

This got Blythe's attention, her writing stopping entirely as she turned to face her father, silently enquiring what he meant by that. Barty's eyes fell to the scar on her lip, he remembered when he'd come home after that accident. At least that's what Lucinda had kept telling him it was. She'd even mocked him for how much he fussed over their daughter - maybe that was part of the reason he'd distanced himself from Blythe as she grew older. Blythe scoffed at his silence, rolling her eyes as she shook her head. She looked down, trying to hold in an annoyed chuckle as she pulled her bottom lip into her teeth, biting hard enough to draw blood before she looked back up at her father, "You have done nothing but beg for my return home. So I do it, for my grandmother, and this is what you have to say to me? Not an apology for locking up my brother, the only person I had in this family. Or for not letting me say goodbye to my mother when she died. Did you assume I'd forget?"

No response, which irritated the brunette further and caused her to rise to her feet, "How about when Barty died? You just let them bury his body in Azakaban! And you didn't tell me!"

Her voice cracked, causing her to inhale deeply and look up, a lump forming in her throat as she felt her face grow hot. She shook her head, squeezing her eyes shut before returning her gaze to her father when he spoke again, "You were young, you should not have had to deal with that much loss."

"I survived a war, as did you! Dealing with my loss was nowhere near comparable to the amount of children that were orphaned, or families taken away from one another at the hands of the Dark Lord," Blythe countered, her voice almost pleading as she held her hands out in his direction, "We only had each other, and you closed me out and continued to do ministry work! You locked away your own son, lost your wife, got demoted at the job you were once so proud of, and could not bother to even talk to me! I wasn't a child back then!"

"You and I both know that is not true," Barty pointed at her in an accusatory manner, remembering how often he tried to talk to her following Barty's arrest, and yet before her mother's death. Lucinda had stopped communicating with Blythe, not a single sign of life in her eyes as she mourned her son's imprisonment in Azkaban, "You were just as emotional."

"You put my brother in a cell," she spat coldly.

"He was guilty!"

"All because another criminal wanted a shorter sentence!"

The Crouches stared at one another, both red in the face and wide-eyed.

Nothing but air filled the space in front of them.

This was a long time coming.

Blythe's hands clenched into a fist, the parchment she'd been writing on a victim of this. She looked down again, her brown eyes closing as she took a steady breath. She didn't dare look at her father as she spoke once more, "What are you hiding from me?"

"There is nothing to hide,"

There was silence, and then Blythe spoke once more.

"You're lying," she retorted, looking back up with a cold look in her eyes, "You lie. No wonder you were so good at your career, too bad you weren't any good at being a father."

Blythe moved to leave the room, and Barty reached out for her. Blythe snatched her wrist away, glaring at him with a disgusted look on her face, "I'm not a little girl. I will be returning to Hogwarts tonight after dinner, just as you wished. Happy Christmas, Father."

As Blythe moved up the stairs to her room, Barty crammed his hands into the pocket of his slacks. Closing them into fists as he marched toward the door to the cabinet, gripping it tightly and yanking the door open. He glared down at the blank space, not daring to move the cloak as he cleared his throat. He could hear the slight groan that escaped from beneath the cloak, but he showed no sign of sympathy as he glowered, "I hope you're happy too."

Blythe left directly after dinner, only staying long enough to say goodbye to her grandmother and request Winky to prepare a dish for her to take with her. Once it was in her hands, Blythe and Barty spoke a bitter goodbye, and then she disapparated out of the manor. There had been no time to get a train ticket, and she didn't want to wait any longer. When she appeared just outside of Hogsmeade, Blythe put a charm on her luggage and then began her walk to the castle in contemplative silence. A deep frown was on her face as she watched her feet, treading through the fluffy snow. Maybe she should have tried to be civil, to make up for the discourse, but she could not bring herself to do that. Not if her father could not even tell her the truth.

Severus was in his room, his cloak hanging on the wall and his overshirt in his wardrobe. Just in his white buttonup and black slacks, Severus read his book intently. The castle had been quiet, and quite dull in the absence of the students that roamed the halls. A few remained, such as Ezra Adler and the Weasley boys, but he intended to bask in the silence that would come from the lack of students in the castle. Just as Severus was turning a page, a knock echoed throughout his room. He almost wanted to ignore it, but turned his head after a few beats when it happened once more. He grumbled, silently wondering which student could be knocking on his door at this hour. Severus shut the book, setting it on the side table and rising to his feet. The dark-haired professor crossed the room, then pulled open the door to quite the shock.

Blythe stood in front of him, her nose bright red from the cold and fallen snow caught in her brown curls. Much of it was melting into the fabric of her coat, which she hadn't been bothered to take off upon entering the castle. She shivered lightly and looked up at him with the kindest smile she could muster despite her current situation. Severus's brow raised, a familiar inquisitive look crossing his face as he spoke, "You're not supposed to be here."

"Yes well," she held up a bowl that Severus hadn't noticed in her hands, and he stared at it as her smile widened, "Happy Christmas, Severus. I'm assuming you didn't get a very fancy meal and well, there was plenty extra and it's not as if they're..."

"Slow down, will you?" He interrupted, stepping sideways and gestured for her to step inside, taking the bowl from her hands in the process. He spared a glance to the contents inside, then set it on a countertop by the window, focusing his attention on the distraught Blythe. He helped her shrug off the coat she was wearing, letting him see that she was still wearing what she'd worn for dinner with her family. A long-sleeved deep green dress that stopped at her knees with black stockings. She'd thankfully put on better shoes for the weather, but he still frowned at how hold she must have been.

Severus guided the shivering brunette to the small sofa by his fireplace, sitting her on it and helping her remove her leather boots. Blythe was slouched over, her hands folded together on her lap as she stared at the floor. Severus remained crouched in front of her, looking up and studying the look on her face. He said nothing as he stood, his hands gently rubbing up her arms in the process. Severus leaned around her, snatching a blanket from the back of the sofa and stepping back.

"Sit back," he spoke gently, and she did, bringing her legs up with her to allow Severus to drape the blanket on her body.

"Thank you," she whispered, turning her head to watch Severus as he sat down beside her, his dark eyes lingering on Blythe until she had looked in his direction. He found his hand resting on her caf, squeezing it gently in response to her sentiments before he pulled his hand away.

"Are you alright? Do you need some tea or anything?"

"I'll be fine, just got into a fight with my father is all," she muttered.

"I'm sorry,"

"There's nothing you can do about it," she shrugged, turning her head away from him and looking at the fire.

"I think you should stay here tonight," Severus informed her.

"That's not necessary," she chuckled, shaking her head, curls bouncing as she did so.

"I say it is, I don't feel comfortable leaving you on your own tonight,"

"I'm just a few halls away from you,"

"More like a few floors," He countered, "Bed or sofa?"

"Severus,"

"Blythe," They both looked at one another. He frowned, "Please."

"Okay, I'll sleep here,"

He was hesitant but accepted the answer with a small nod. Blythe pulled the blanket up further, curling into the sofa and laying on her side, eyes glued to the flames and her feet just barely touching Severus's thigh despite curling her legs as much as she could. His gaze lingered for a moment, watching her side profile as her shivering came to a slow stop. Her eyes were lit up by the fire, but not by the joy that they usually had while in the old castle.

"Do you want to talk about it?" His voice was soft as he moved to reach for his book again, feeling Blythe shift how she was laying, her back against the sofa and her toes tucked just beneath his leg. But Severus did not move, which surprised Blythe.

"I just want my father to tell me the truth," she fessed, toying with her fingers and pushing her head back so that she was looking at the ceiling. She groaned and pressed her hands against her face, smudging her mascara in the process. She shook her head again and dropped her hands onto her stomach, looking at Severus again, "He's hiding something from me - I know it."

"Well, whatever it is: it is not helping you to stress over it,"

"That's grand coming from you," she muttered.

"I heard that,"

"I know,"

They locked eyes for a moment, a small frown on Severus's face. A smirk soon formed on Blythe's lips, and she groaned again, turning her head so she wasn't looking in his direction anymore, though he could still see her smile. Severus remained beside Blythe for a while longer, turning through his book as she slowly fell asleep. Once she had, he stood and walked to lay in his bed, leaving Blythe in her peace on the sofa.

When Blythe woke up the next morning, she was surprised to realize she'd slept through the full night. She sat up on the sofa, a hand on her back from how she'd been curled up on it and stole a look around the room. There was a small fire in the fireplace, likely tended to by Severus, and she could smell tea brewing. She turned to see Severus standing in the small kitchen-like area that each professor had in their apartments. He was watching the kettle but turned his head slightly when he felt Blythe's eyes on him.

"Good morning," his voice was even deeper than usual from sleep, but he was already fully dressed for the morning and had grabbed two teacups for himself and Blythe.

"Good morning," she hummed, pushing the blanket off of her legs and rising to her stocking-clad feet. Blythe stretched all the way, her arms going out to her sides as she approached Severus. She noticed that he'd placed her coat on the hook that his cloak hung on and that her leather boots were next to his black shoes. She tucked her hair behind her ears, "Thank you...for last night."

"It's the least I could do for you," he told her gently, pouring the steaming water into the teacup. Blythe watched it steep, the water changing color. She looked back up at him, "You look well-rested."

"I slept through the night," she informed him, wrapping her fingers around the glass and allowing it to warm her small hands. Severus hummed, sipping his tea.

"Thank you for the leftover dinner," Severus spoke up once more.

Blythe offered a smile, the left side of her mouth turning up as she nodded and took a sip of her tea. She swallowed, letting the hot liquid run down her throat, "Of course."

The two continued talking for the morning before Blythe eventually departed and made her way to her room. Her luggage was still sitting on the floor, having been discarded and left the moment she stepped into it. Blythe gathered some water to clean her face properly, then pulled off her stockings, her dress remaining. She groaned and dropped herself onto her bed, staring at her hands for a moment before she flopped back, her arms stretched out beside her and her eyes shut as took a deep breath.

She had no idea what to think about what had happened the previous evening. Or what to do about it. But she just wanted to push as much of it as possible to the back of her mind.

The year would be over soon enough.